


Mistakes

by prinanalogicality



Category: Thomas Sanders
Genre: Angst, M/M, but will be fluffy ish, tw panic attacks, tw self doubt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-03
Updated: 2017-05-03
Packaged: 2018-10-27 03:49:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10801089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prinanalogicality/pseuds/prinanalogicality
Summary: A friend of mine came up with a mesh of idea prompts. "Can you hear me?", "Please breathe. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't-", "I didn't mean to.", and "I know. I don't deserve you." After Roman's treatment of Patton in the latest video, Anxiety demands that the male apologize for his actions. Words are said, misinterpreted, and all Anxiety wants to do is get that door open.





	Mistakes

**Author's Note:**

> This can also be found on my tumblr, prinanalogicality. I take requests! :)

“Why do you always have to be such a dick?” Anxiety asks crudely, staring up at Roman with glaring, unamused eyes. Roman, in turn, gasps dramatically, a hand settling over his heart.

“Why must you use such foul language? I have done nothing wrong.”

“Nothing wrong? You and Logan totally tag teamed on Patton like complete heathens, how do you consider that nothing wrong?” Anxiety uncrosses his arms in favor of gesturing towards Roman’s chest, a deep frown sketched onto his face.

“Logan and I were simply formulating ideas in order to improve Thomas’s quality of life. Yes, we may have been a tad bit extreme, but we were able to recognize our faults and allow Patton to share his ideas.” Roman shrugs and sits on the edge of his bed, one leg elegantly crossing over the other. “What I do not understand is that I am considered the dramatic one, yet here you are.”

“Feel free to stop being such a prick at any time, _Princey_.” Anxiety rolls his eyes, going quiet for a moment to gather his thoughts. “Look, I don’t care if you think you did nothing wrong. I already talked to Logan, he was able to apologize. Why can’t you just suck it up and say you’re sorry too?”

“Because I am royalty, Cynical-rella. Royalty does not apologize when royalty is not at fault.”

Anxiety groans in exasperation, his hands sliding down his face. “You make me want to cut off my own hands.” Shaking his head, he glances to the male sat on the bed, admiring his reflection in the handheld-mirror he has produced out of seemingly nowhere. “So you would rather stare at yourself instead of make Mo smile?”

“Of course. I can see Patton’s smile in my own reflection, in a sense - except I am much more appealing, of course.”

“You’re ridiculous. I seriously can’t believe I actually said yes to a relationship with you.” Anxiety sneers, stepping away from the male sat on the bed. He grasps the handle of Roman’s bedroom door, prepared to exit.

“Ah, I agree with that. Sometimes I find it quite astonishing that I have settled the way I have.” Roman’s voice is dreamy as he speaks, and Anxiety pauses, glancing back at him.

“Settled?”

“Why, yes. I very well could have pursued a romance with a lovely prince or princess, but I am here with you.” His voice is so matter of fact, so straightforward - it makes Anxiety’s chest ache.

He hates the way he is feeling. Today is Patton’s day - everyone has their bad days. Anxiety made it a point to try to make the others apologize to improve Patton’s day. Anxiety isn’t supposed to get upset, not now, but he has always been selfish. He is so selfish that his chest tightens, his throat closes, his fingers tremble. He can’t seem to get a solid grip on the handle, despite his several attempts.

“I know. I don’t deserve you.” Anxiety’s voice is soft, so tentative, a stark contrast from his normal brash tone of voice.

“Why not atone to Patton for me? You could send my apologies, no matter how false. Or, perhaps, you could admit your own fault. You said nothing while you thought things were wrong in the first place, are you not to blame for anything?” Roman mentions absentmindedly, not having noticed Anxiety’s response. That, or he does not care enough to comment on it. He simply settled for Anxiety, someone easy for him. Why would he care?

Every breath burns. Anxiety can’t seem to respond - his mouth is open, allowing him his quick, panicked breaths, but any attempt to communicate results in a tremble of his lips, an increased burning sensation behind his eyes, within his nostrils. His rapid breathing hitches once, twice, thrice, and his face feels hot, so very hot, only to become wet with fat tears spilling down his reddened cheeks.  His feelings are only intensifying the more he tries to get the door open and fails, the more he thinks about how he has failed Patton, the more he thinks about how Roman has merely _settled_ for someone like him.

“Anxiety? Dearest, I am all for conversing with you, but the fact that you are standing in my bedroom without doing or saying anything is admittedly quite unnerving.” 

The words feel as if they go into one ear and right out the other as Anxiety shakes his head, feeling an intense itch on his neck, on the outer bones of his wrists. He swallows thickly, closing his eyes. He pulls his hands from the door in favor of reaching up to his neck, gently rubbing with the side of his wrists to get rid of the itches.

“Just open the door for me.” He manages to mutter the words bitterly, shakily, and the simple action of speaking breaks the dam within Anxiety’s fighting conscience. A hoarse cough escapes him, followed by a quivering whimper, his fast-paced breathing only serving to make him feel even more panicked. He can’t breathe, he can’t breathe, he can’t breathe-

“Oh- oh, Anxiety, can you hear me? My darling, did I say something? I will apologize to Patton immediately if it will soothe you, I am most terribly sorry to you for whatever I have done.” Roman’s voice makes Anxiety’s chest ache even more - because he wants to be closer to him. His entire being craves being pressed against Roman’s chest, being held, being comforted. Listening to Roman singing lowly in his ear, low enough that his voice is raspy and so appealing - but Anxiety can’t allow that.

“Just open the door.” Anxiety sputters attempting to come off more forceful, to even yell, but yet again all he can manage is a wavering request, one raw with his anguish.

“You know I cannot let you go off on your own when you are like this. Come here, sit on my lap. I’ll sing to you, what song today? You look so lovely, my romance, I would love to play with that hair of yours.” Roman attempts to soothe him in all the ways that generally work, ways that make Anxiety physically hurt the longer he resists.

“Why would I? No, I won’t. I want to be alone, I’d rather be alone than be stuck with someone who _lies_. Someone who _settles_.” Anxiety grits the teeth out with as much weight as he can manage, each word being filled with more and more venom the longer he talks.

He catches Roman’s facial expression as he seems to understand the situation, immediately standing up. “Anxiety, oh. Please-” He steps towards the trembling male and Anxiety shakes his head, backing up clumsily and managing to trip on his own feet, falling back onto his rear end with a thud that makes Roman wince. Hands turn to allow nails to scratch at the expanse of a neck, and the sound of hyperventilating becomes more prominent in the room.

“Please breathe. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t- I didn’t mean to. Please, Anxiety. I did not mean that I have settled for you, I meant that I have settled _with_ you. I expected to be doomed to a life of going through all sorts of princes and princesses and not finding the one, but I have found you, I have always had you beside me. We argue, we annoy one another, but I adore you, my one true love. You have always been the one for me, and you always will be until the end of time. Can you hear me? Please, I hope you can, I need you to know. I know I have been acting like a child today - I vow to apologize to Patton, I just beg that you breathe.”

Anxiety’s response is far from immediate. It takes several minutes for his breathing to calm enough for him to speak again, several more for him to allow Roman to get close enough to touch him, but the royal is relentless. He murmurs much-needed positives to the dark trait, reassuring him of their love, of his affections, of how his words were misconstrued.

Roman, sat on the ground and leaning back against his bedroom wall, runs his fingers through Anxiety’s messy, tangled hair, pressing a kiss to the crown of his beloved’s head. “I have behaved in an inexcusable manner today. I shall apologize to Patton and the others, and I shall make the rest of my existence dedicated to apologizing to you. Please forgive me.” He mumbles, his own voice soothing - a soft tone that is reserved specially for Anxiety when they are alone. Roman hates being the cause of Anxiety’s attacks, he only hopes to bring light to the male’s dark world. But, he does have his own flaws as a trait that is not in charge of emotions. He tends to speak in a manner that can easily overlook the emotions of others - namely Patton and Anxiety as traits that function in the emotion department.

“You’re an asshole.” Anxiety murmurs weakly, head tucked beneath Roman’s chin and his eyes closed. He feels tired, so terribly tired, and though he has most definitely not completely forgiven Roman, he is far too sleepy and far too dependent on the male’s comfort to leave the room now. He just wants to go to sleep.

“I am aware. I am terribly sorry for my posterior-esque tendencies.” Roman says quietly, gently and slowly scooping Anxiety into his arms to bring the male to the bed, giving him time to object if he pleases. Upon receiving no objection, he stands, setting Anxiety onto the bed like a treasured, cherished being.

“I just wanna sleep. Come on.”

“I know how you sleep, you must be uncomfortable. Hush now. One moment.” Roman takes the time to remove Anxiety’s jeans and the male’s jacket, leaving Anxiety clad in underwear and one of his soft black T-shirts. “Would you like one of my Disney shirts?” He sees Anxiety’s pout and reluctant nod and smiles, knowing which one to suggest. “How about my Morgana shirt?”

“Morgana was so underappreciated. I want that one.” Anxiety grumbles and sits up, in which Roman tosses Anxiety’s black shirt away, handing the male his Morgana shirt so Anxiety can put it on. Roman, in turn, strips to his underwear, putting on his matching Ursula shirt before climbing onto the bed.

“Let’’s go to bed, sweetheart.”

Roman does not receive a verbal response, but instead he feels the warmth of his boyfriend’s body pressing against him, cuddling up to him. He kisses the top of his crown jewel’s head, closing his eyes. He feels more than terrible about having upset Anxiety - tomorrow, he knows they will talk about it when Anxiety is levelheaded. He knows it will more than likely become another argument, but he also knows now that he must tune more in to what he says and Anxiety’s reactions.

He feels soft, steady breaths ghosting over his shoulder and allows himself to calm enough to fall asleep, relaxed knowing that his beloved has unwound and still wants to lie down with him. He does not know what he would do without Anxiety - Anxiety teaches him about how to handle people, how to react. They encounter many differences of opinion, but Roman refuses to let those differences get between them. Not like they have today.


End file.
